


can we just pretend?

by welshwriter



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:58:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13209387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welshwriter/pseuds/welshwriter





	can we just pretend?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonfeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonfeather/gifts).



Thomas stood in the corner of the room, a drink in one hand, the other stuffed in his pocket, defensive and scowling. It wasn’t that all parties made him miserable, but Christmas work-dos were insufferable, and he still had a pile of work sitting on his desk that needed to get done before he flew home for the holidays. And James hadn’t turned up yet.

When he’d told James that he wasn’t going to the Christmas party, that he barely even liked Christmas and he’d much rather stay at home and work through his mountain of paperwork, James had tutted and sighed and told him to get into the spirit of Christmas, which apparently included itchy sweaters, awkward parties and ugly decorations. Only once James had agreed to come as a reinforcement, wearing the most garish sweater he could find, did Thomas agree to go – although once James had told him he should go, it was almost inevitable. Thomas found it difficult to deny James anything, particularly when he was curled up in a hoodie he’d stolen from Thomas, looking at him over the rim of an oversized coffee mug. 

Due to Thomas’ pathological need to be on time for everything, it was still early in the evening, the point at which no one was drunk enough to relax and James still hadn’t turned up. When Hamilton flounced in, all golden brown skin and long lashes, looking annoyingly good in his Christmas jumper, Thomas’ scowl deepened. Fortunately, Hamilton didn’t notice him immediately – he didn’t have the energy for another nonsense catfight with him, not after exchanging barbed insults all through the lunch break.

When James finally appeared, all sweet smiles and apologetic explanations for why he was late, Thomas immediately relaxed. It wasn’t that he was in love with his best friend, except that he was, hopelessly. Sometimes – usually when he was finding it difficult to sleep, and he opened his phone to scroll through old pictures of them together, Thomas wondered when exactly it was he’d fallen in love. He thought it might have been unavoidable, from the moment they met in their intro to philosophy class, that Thomas did then and always would love this sweet, smiley man, with his penchant for tea-drinking and incomprehensible sci-fi novels. 

For a moment, Thomas felt immeasurably better, while James got rid of his coat and found a flute of champagne. He looked adorable, Thomas thought, in his patterned sweater, looking up at him through his eyelashes. He wished he could bend his head and kiss him chastely, as a greeting, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Who’s your friend?”

Thomas looked away from James, right at Hamilton, with hair which was, for once, washed and falling down to his shoulders, grinning broadly back at Thomas. 

“Hi,” James said politely, extending a hand. “I’m James. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Alex,” Hamilton said, holding on to James’ hand a moment too long. “Pleasure.”

Thomas scowled.

For the rest of the evening, Hamilton wouldn’t leave them alone, talking to James incessantly, intentionally ignoring Thomas. Thomas couldn’t figure out if Hamilton was really interested in James or just trying to wind Thomas up, but he knew that James was taken in by his gentle teasing and batting eyelashes. To his horror, James returned the compliments, finding any excuse to touch Hamilton, laughing at his jokes, glancing away shyly when Hamilton looked at him too long. 

Jealousy sat uncomfortably in Thomas’ stomach all evening, making him touchy and miserable. He wanted nothing more than to go home and soak in a bathtub with a glass of wine and his smooth jazz Spotify playlist. He would have left, if he wasn’t worried about what James and Hamilton would get up to without him. 

Time was ticking by, and a flush was creeping up Thomas’ own neck as he treated his misery by downing whatever alcohol he could find. He was hurt when he realised that James was so wrapped up in Hamilton, he wasn’t going to pay any attention to Thomas all evening. He was furious when, after getting caught up in conversation with Washington for fewer than ten minutes, he turned around to found James and Hamilton exchanging numbers. 

He turned on his heel and walked out. 

By the time James had caught up with him he was on the street corner, fiddling with his phone, trying to book an Uber. 

“What the hell is wrong?” James asked, sounding surprised and unhappy, making Thomas’ stomach squirm.

“Nothing,” Thomas insisted, refusing to turn around and look at James until he tugged on his elbow. 

“You’ve been acting weird all evening, so tell me –“

“Oh, you noticed?”

James scrunched up his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Thomas shrugged him off and turned away again, looking for his cab, drumming his phone against his leg and wanting this conversation to end already. “Nothing, I don’t feel well. I’m going home.” 

James hesitated. “You really don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Thomas blinked away tears and hoped James wouldn’t notice. “Just – Hamilton, really?”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Are you kidding?” Thomas cried, spinning around to face James again, feeling a little bit wild as hurt and embarrassment and anger broiled in his stomach. “I’ve done nothing except complain about him ever since I came to work here!”

“I thought you were joking!”

Thomas missed a beat, pulling a face. “What?”

“I thought it was like, a jokey relationship you had with Alex.” James looked sheepish all of a sudden, tugging the sleeves of his sweater. Thomas’ heart thudded to hear James call him Alex – it might have just been his name but it felt too intimate. “I thought it was just fun.”

A gust of icy wind blew through them, and Thomas realised that, in his hurry to catch him, James hadn’t got his coat. All at once he deflated. “It is. I’m sorry. I overreacted.” 

James twisted his hands together, looking apologetic and nervy. Thomas wanted to kiss the expression away. “So it’s OK if I go on a date with him?”

Thomas wondered why he’d never told James how he felt – this was something he’d wondered at least daily for what felt like years. Up until now, he’d always felt like he had more time, to gather his nerves, to fnd the right wording, to persuade James to feel the same way. James looked up at him with wide, earnest eyes, holding his hands to his chest to almost look like he was pleading with Thomas. The words came close to clawing themselves out of Thomas’ mouth, to have them sit heavy in the air between them, for Thomas to expose himself, entirely vulnerable, to trust James with his heart, still bloody and beating. I love you. 

“Of course you can,” he said, smiling bravely. “You have to let me veto Hamilton first, though.”

James’ face lit up. He wrapped his arms around Thomas’ neck in a hug and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Thomas could smell his cologne and deodorant, achingly familiar, the same smell that clung to his clothes on the rare occasion that they were returned to him. “Thank you. We still on for this weekend?”

As Thomas sat in the back of the Uber driver’s car, feeling bad for keeping him waiting as he had his heart broken, he imagined spending the weekend helping James to prepare for his date, reassuring James that his outfit was fine and that his breath didn’t smell weird when they should have been watching Disney movies in their onesies. He took a deep breath, brushed at his eyes, and murmured, “Enough.”


End file.
